


right wrongs to places no one knows

by sciencebluefeelings



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Captain Spock (Star Trek), Domestic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Human Genitalia, Science Officer James T. Kirk, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27957245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencebluefeelings/pseuds/sciencebluefeelings
Summary: When patrons are no longer interested in one of the sex slaves, they are chained outside the brothel for free use.Ambassador Spock doesn’t live in that reality, but his counterpart does.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James T. Kirk & Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock Prime
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Jim smacks a messy kiss to Spock’s shoulder before tousling his kitten soft grey hair. “It’s almost noon. You should get up and eat something.”

Spock barely reacts. Jim playfully bites at Spock’s jawline and Spock squirms. His mumble is barely audible. “It is Saturday, Jim, let me sleep.”

Jim nudges Spock and watches him grumble and stretch, lithe and languid on the mattress. His knee moves the blankets and exposes more of his body. Jim had found sweatpants when he woke up a few hours ago, but Spock is still fully unclothed. Jim sneaks his hand, attempting to assist the blanket’s progress further down. Spock huffs out a laugh and attempts to drag up the edge of the comforter.

“Nuh-uh.” Jim bats at his hands. “Let me enjoy the view.”

His cheeks flushing, Spock sprawls back and allows Jim to drink in the sight of him. He’s spotted with Jim’s lovebites and his nipples are taut from the cool air. His darker chest hair doesn’t match the color of the hair on his head, and it trails down his stomach to. . .

Spock makes a half-hearted attempt to thrust into Jim’s hand cupping his groin. Jim smirks. “Thought you said something about going back to sleep.” He sucks at Spock’s collarbone, teasing two fingers inside of his sheath, and Spock’s breath hitches as he squeezes around the fingers. Jim slides his fingers deeper, not bothering to move any faster as he feels the silky wet warmth. Spock urges Jim closer with both legs.

Jim rests his head on Spock’s side and adds a finger, thrusting now with three fingers. Spock hums and moves his hips with Jim’s hand, his own hands brushing at Jim’s hair. He feels Spock’s orgasm building as his breath quickens and movements still, and Jim turns his face in time to see Spock’s lips part in pleasure. He always falls silent when he comes, unless Jim’s been edging him for a while. Then he’s deliciously noisy.

As Spock basks in the afterglow, Jim kisses his temple before nosing at the hair around Spock’s ears. “It’s growing out,” he observes. “Are you going to trim it?”

“Perhaps.” Spock kisses Jim’s cheek and gingerly gets out of bed, trying not to smear his slick all over the sheets - which are already a lost cause anyways. They’re definitely doing laundry today.

Jim’s already showered, but he’s tempted to join Spock again. Instead, he just washes his hands and goes into the kitchen to reheat the porridge that had gone cold.

Jim returns to their bedroom to begin bundling the blankets to put in the cycler. At that moment Spock exits their bathroom in his glasses and a cute short robe that flaunts his thighs. He sees Jim with the sheets in his hands and rushes over to grab them. “You said you’d wait for me to help last time,” Spock says with a pout.

Jim snorts and kisses the edge of his mouth. “Sorry. C’mon, kitchen.” They ditch the blankets to go to the kitchen together. Jim and Spock eat together with their ankles entwined under the kitchen table. The stars seen through the large viewing portal are bright and each is a slightly different color.

Jim rests his chin on a hand. “You remember when we first moved in here?”

Spock is blushing again, but there’s a smile in his eyes. “Vulcans do not forget.” He glances out, following Jim’s line of sight. “The stars are no less mesmerising than they were that day.”

Jim grins. It’s curious how fate goes. A year ago, he never would’ve guessed he would be in a stable relationship with a Vulcan more than twice his age, happily cohabiting with him.

After they had met on Delta Vega and saved Vulcan and Earth from a homicidal Romulan from Spock’s reality, Spock had been uncertain what to do. He had been working as an ambassador in his own reality, but such a high-profile profession was likely not feasible in this reality unless he were to undergo several identity-altering modifications, most of which he was hesitant to perform.

He and Jim had grown closer during that time. They just seemed to work well together. Jim urged Spock to return to his first profession, working as a scientist in outer space. Specifically on the _Enterprise_. Because Jim was a science officer working on the _Enterprise._

So Spock did. He had been hesitant to work as a science officer aboard the _Enterprise_ , but his fears of interfering with the future of his past reality were unfounded. This was not the reality he had known, it was completely different. There were new universes, new specimens and planets to explore, nothing he had seen before.

Spock later admitted he had suspected as much, noticing the subtle differences in all of the _Enterprise_ crew and their languages compared to his old reality, but his fears were finally put to rest and he immersed himself in his new life. It still makes Jim’s heart skip seeing Spock at work in the labs, his crescent eyes shimmering as he eagerly analyzes samples brought aboard the ship.

It was wonderful seeing Spock becoming more comfortable after being hesitant about his role among the other younger crew members for so long. It gave him more opportunity to settle into his routine and his developing relationship with Jim.

Jim had never wanted to spend time with someone like this before. He openly teased and poked, and Spock returned the banter without hesitation. Jim had melted under the affection. There was never any fear of judgement or rejection. Spock had known the other Jim, and even if he was only a quarter of who Jim is, Spock still wanted to be lifelong friends with him. That’s more than enough for Jim.

Jim’s declaration of romantic intent for Spock had shocked the older man. He had only shared a platonic bond with Jim’s counterpart of his reality. Both Jim and Bones’ counterparts had gotten married, leaving Spock on his own. After breaking his mandatory Vulcan betrothal, Spock had not sought another mate.

He accepted Jim’s request to dinner and they went to the mess hall as they usually did, this time hand in hand.

They went on dates in the holodeck and exchanged secret, chaste kisses in empty corridors. When it was Spock’s pon farr, his time of mating, he requested Jim to assist him through it. Jim still remembers how adorably bright Spock’s ears had gone while asking him.

Captain Spock offered them a couple’s quarters to use, far more spacious and furnished than two single suites. They had moved in together, and then never moved back out.

 _Domestic compatibility,_ Jim had said as he washed dishes and Spock dried them. _That was my secret all along, sorry, babe. I just wanted someone to fold laundry and select furniture with._ It had been Jim’s first time hearing Spock laugh out loud. He wants to hear that beautiful sound every day of his life. Jim has the wedding ring picked out. He’s still deciding when to propose.

Spock is looking at his comm, food completely forgotten. Jim pokes his hand with the back of his chopsticks. “Babe.”

“I apologize, Jim.” Spock doesn’t tear his gaze from the comm screen. “The chief science officer is alerting us that we are approaching an unusual phenomenon. They believe it to be some sort of temporal anomaly.”

Spock’s always been interested in interdimensional stuff, enough that it’s sort of become his specialty. He did arrive here from another reality, after all.

Jim purses his lips. “Well, we’re not on shift today, so. That’s their problem.”

Spock shakes his head at Jim with a fond expression. Once they’re done eating, they go back to the bedroom to finish putting the blankets through the washer. Jim catches Spock by his slim hips and spins him around, because he can and because he loves the tiny surprised noise Spock makes. “Popcorn and movie, babe?”

“Yes,” Spock says with a smile, still held in Jim’s arms.

As Spock frees himself to go into the kitchen, Jim retrieves his glasses so he doesn’t have to squint at the vidscreen. They’re neat black frames with square lenses. He finds some soft blankets to pile on the couch for them to cuddle in and sits down with the remote. Jim points it at the screen, flicking through thumbnails. “What do you want to watch, old man?”

“The twenty-first century animation with the one-eyed bird,” he hears from the kitchen.

“The one with the green-haired prince?”

“Yes.” Spock comes into view with a bowl of popcorn and freezes. The delayed response causes Jim to glance over. Spock is staring at his face. Jim blinks. “What?”

Spock sits next to Jim, still staring at him. “You do not wear your glasses often where I can see.”

Jim winks. “Consider this as me indulging you, babe.” Spock shyly rubs his arm and Jim laughs. It’s too cute how he still gets flustered.

As the vid plays, they end up in their usual position of Spock lying with his head resting on Jim’s thigh. At first they’re distracted, talking to each other about the new triplets that one of their officer friends had just given birth to, but they end up watching the vidscreen, riveted by the story.

When the video ends, Jim and Spock don’t move from their places on the couch. Spock yawns, showing his sharp incisors. “The washer beeped,” he says sleepily. “We should move the blankets to the dryer.” Jim helps him sit up, only to drag him into a back hug. “This will not assist our efforts in completing the laundry,” Spock protests even as he arches into Jim’s caressing hands.

“Hmm.” Jim grazes his teeth at Spock’s earlobe as he runs his hands up Spock’s bared thighs. “I dare you to sit in my lap and ride me, Mister Short Skirts. You know you’ve been distracting me with those bare legs this whole time.”

“They are robes, Jim, not skirts.” Spock settles back down onto Jim’s lap and captures his lips in a heated kiss. Jim smirks as Spock unties his own robe. Gotta love that Vulcan libido.

Jim wakes in the middle of the night, completely wide awake. It’s not something that happens to him often. Strangely enough, as alert as he feels, he’s sure he’d been dreaming of something.

Spock shifts slightly next to him, making a small noise. Jim frowns. He carefully adjusts the comforter so Spock’s more warmly covered, but Spock whimpers again and Jim goes still. It’s the noises Spock makes when he’s about to come, but he’s stopped moving and nothing is touching him.

And then Spock is quiet again, like nothing had ever happened - he must’ve been asleep the whole time. Jim dares reaching out to feel Spock’s features, and there’s a crease between his eyebrows. Whatever dream he’s having, it’s not a good one.

Jim smooths the crease with one finger, and he feels Spock shift toward him. It makes Jim’s throat tighten unexpectedly. He tries to calm his breathing and inches closer to Spock as he closes his eyes again.

The next morning, Spock acts like nothing had ever happened. Jim hesitates on whether to bring up the strange night as they get ready for the day and go to work together. Maybe Spock had forgotten.

“Jim.” Spock is tugging at his uniform sleeve, and Jim looks up at him from his computer. Spock lowers his voice. “Are you alright? You smell worried.”

Jim glances to his side where his crewmates work as usual. Spock usually stays professional in their work environment, it’s unusual for him to be acting like this. The lab feels awfully claustrophobic today, and Jim wants to go to their room with Spock now. “It’s - I’ll let you know later.”

Spock doesn’t look pleased by this reply, but he moves on. Jim rubs his eye with the back of his wrist before watching Spock stand next to Uhura and another science officer. They’re examining a hologram together. The officer faces Spock. “Status?”

“We are still analyzing the temporal anomaly. It’s unusual how its source appears to be concentrated at a single end of the rift, radiating in a single direction. The impulses it releases are indecipherable by any of our decoding software.”

Uhura’s eyes are bright, as they always are when there’s a new language to learn or code to break. Jim can’t help smiling at her enthusiasm.

He ends up spending most of the morning on cleaning rotation, organizing a portion of the lab space. Spock slips over to him around lunchtime. “Do you want to eat at home?” Jim nods and they walk out together.

They close the door behind them and Spock’s small frown is back. “Jim, what’s wrong?”

Spock looks so normal, and Jim feels so unsettled. It’s just not right. He wraps his arms around Spock, holding him a little too tight. Spock returns the embrace, his hands slipping up Jim’s back. Jim tries to keep his voice calm. “It’s just - something strange happened last night. I think you were having a bad dream, and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I was, or you were?”

Jim can’t help chuckling at Spock’s confused voice. “I’m being weird, aren’t I? You were the one who had the nightmare and I’m the one all worried.”

“There is no need to worry, Jim.” Spock says with an easy tone of dismissal, smoothing down Jim’s uniform and adjusting his comm badge. Or it might be Spock’s clothes. They’re the same height, and they wear the same sized science uniform so they’ve lost track as their garments got mixed together.

Jim releases Spock with reluctance, still feeling that odd protectiveness. “If you say there’s nothing to worry about, I’ll trust you.”

Jim’s gut feeling proves to be more than just an unfound concern. There is a noticeable change in the entire crew. Everyone seems unsettled, and the psi-sensitive crewmates are the worst off.

“There appears to be a correlation between the radiation of the cluster of galaxies we are approaching and the electric impulses of psi-sensitive neurons brain.” Spock lowers the two graphs he had been comparing. “However, the patterns are not similar enough to draw a finite conclusion.”

The chief science officer ponders, “Could it be that our minds are fusing with the experiences of a different mirror reality?”

“There are inconsistencies within the testimonies of the psi-sensitive crewmates,” another officer argues. “Our twin Vulcan crewmates claim one is feeling the sensation of walking and typing daily, while the other feels no extraneous physical sensations at all. If this was an alternate reality, why would the twin Vulcans in our reality have such different reactions to the impulses?”

Spock adjusts a knob. “Check their psionic levels again. This is most perplexing.”

Jim doesn’t look at the data, distracted by Spock’s stiff spine. “Spock.” Spock glances over at him. Jim bites his lip. “Are you alright, Spock?” Spock’s gaze softens a touch hearing Jim’s concern. Before he can respond, someone calls his name.

“Ambassador.” Several heads turn hearing the sound of Captain Spock’s voice. He strides forward with a grim expression. “My office, please. Follow me.”

Spock spares one last look at Jim before he follows Captain Spock out for their private conversation.

Spock is gone long enough that Jim leaves the lab and waits for Spock at their place.

“Spock?” Jim gets up from his seat at the kitchen table as Spock returns, doors sliding closed behind him. “Welcome home.”

Spock's distant eyes focus on Jim's. “Oh. Thank you, my dear.”

Jim gestures at the set table. “Dinner?”

Spock turns towards their bedroom. His voice is tight. “I shall retire early tonight.”

Jim blocks his way before he can take a step. Spock averts eyes, and Jim bites down the urge to grab Spock by the shoulders. He hates when Spock gets like this. Jim wishes he could claw out all the dark secrets deep inside of this man that he knows Spock would never share with him.

Jim dips his head. “Okay. Get some rest.”

When Jim goes to get ready for bed himself, he sees Spock in their bed, tightly curled on his side. He doesn't move as Jim moves quietly back and forth through their space, and then finally settles down on the mattress next to him. Jim forgoes a goodnight kiss, choosing instead to watch Spock's back expand with steady breaths until Jim’s heavy eyelids droop shut.

Jim is startled awake by Spock suddenly thrashing about. Jim scrambles to sit upright. “What the fuck! Spock?”

Wide-eyed with blankets twisted around his limbs, Spock looks back and forth from his body to Jim, who is still frozen on his side of the bed.

Jim’s words die in his throat as Spock gets up from the bed and rapidly moves into the bathroom. He turns on the harsh lights, which illuminate the space all the way to the opposing bedroom wall. Jim slowly follows, watching Spock hunched over the sink. He’s running his hands down his legs, over all of his skin, checking it over and over. Jim cracks open the door further. “Spock, love, what’s going on?”

Spock recoils from Jim as he tries to reach forward. “Babe,” Jim says, now even more worried.

And then there's a splitting, screeching tearing down the middle of his brain, it feels like it's splitting his skull in half down his jaw to his sternum -

Jim feels the footsteps before he hears them and looks up to see a figure enter their bedroom. “Move aside,” Captain Spock orders as he strides into the bathroom and jams his fingers to Spock’s temples.

Spock immediately collapses backwards. “Oh, fuck,” Jim curses as he and the captain lunge forward to catch Spock mid-fall. Jim checks his pulse, and it’s still going at a rabbity fast pace.

“I apologize for the forced entry," the captain says. "I could not allow his proximity telepathy to endanger those in his vicinity any longer.” Captain Spock takes his comm. “Call Doctor McCoy.”

The captain tucks away his comm and returns his attention to Jim, who is now cradling Spock to his chest. “It was a theory, but once I was able to cross-reference my experiences with the ambassador, as we are technically the same individual, but from different realities. I suspect we are currently being subjected to every physical sensation our counterparts are experiencing in real time.”

“What about the psi-sensitive crewmates that reported nothing was different?”

“I am not certain. Perhaps they do not exist in that reality?” Jim can hear the doubt in the captain's voice. “Regardless, we are undoubtedly sharing the same unpleasant physical experiences.”

“What sensations do you feel?” Jim dares to ask.

Captain Spock frowns, and the expression looks out of place on his features. “I cannot register the physical sensations as acutely as the ambassador, but the sensations involve violent - sexual intercourse. We are unsure why the ambassador feels the sensations so much more acutely. We suspect his heightened psi abilities may be a factor in the inconsistency.”

“Oh, no, Spock. I’m so sorry.” Jim huddles over Spock’s unconscious form, a futile effort to shield him from the distress being brought upon him. “Babe.”

“He did not want you to worry,” the captain says. “I suspect there was a very low probability he would have informed you of this humiliating experience himself.”

Their conversation falls silent. Jim dares to make eye contact with the captain, only to see he’s doing the same and they turn away again. Things were still a little awkward between them. Turns out, staging mutiny and being choked to near asphyxiation in front of the bridge crew leads to a rocky start of a relationship. It was okay when there were others with them, but when it was just them two they couldn’t carry a conversation.

Thankfully, Bones arrives at that moment. He gasps seeing the ambassador collapsed on the bathroom floor and kneels down next to him. The captain explains to Bones what had happened as Bones checks his vitals. Bones keeps shaking his head. “We’ll just have to wait for him to wake up.”

They rearrange him on the bed and as the captain checks the room’s temperature controls, Jim tucks the covers around him, letting his touch linger at Spock’s cheek.

“Jim?” Jim turns to see Bones right behind him. There’s a deep crease in his eyebrows.

Jim doesn’t hesitate wrapping his arms around his friend, and Bones returns the embrace with solid arms and perfect warmth. Jim hopes his appreciation is evident in his touch - if he tries to speak now, he’ll burst into tears or something equally embarrassing. Bones still looks unsettled as he and Jim separate. “What even is going on over there?”

The captain shifts with discomfort. “Perhaps it is an abusive relationship?”

Jim scowls. “With whom?” If Jim’s counterpart is the reason both Spocks’ bodies are being perpetually violated, Jim’s gonna fucking find his counterpart and kill him with his own two hands.

The older Spock moves slightly under the covers and opens his eyes. Jim stares down at his partner. “Spock? Are you alright?”

Spock looks from Jim to where Bones and the captain are standing a little closer to the doorway. He gets to a sitting position with difficulty, avoiding eye contact with Jim. “Doctor, I would like to be relocated to one of the quarantine chambers in Medical Bay until this experience is resolved.”

“Certainly, Ambassador. We can go right now, if you’d like.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Jim tries to reach for Spock’s hand only for Spock to yank away. “Do not touch me,” Spock says shortly before getting out of bed and following Bones out the door of their bedroom. Jim stares, his hand still suspended midair.

“You should respect the ambassador’s privacy,” the captain says.

Jim stands. “No, I can’t leave him alone. Of all the times to abandon him, now’s gotta be the worst.”

Jim’s lost sight of Bones and Spock, but he goes directly to Medical Bay to the quarantine chambers located in solitude from the rest of the facility. There is only one room marked occupied. Jim tests the virtual lock and finds that he is permitted access.

Jim immediately enters and the doors slide shut behind him. Jim can hear Spock in the separate bedroom chamber before he sees him. Jim opens the door and Spock whips his head up to face him. Spock has removed all his clothing and is on hands and knees on the bed, tilting his hips as if to try and ease the nonexistent penetration. Spock’s entire body spasms and another frustrated noise escapes his throat.

“Do you want me to leave?” Jim whispers.

Spock rests his forehead on his pillow. “I do not wish to associate you with this experience.”

Jim closes the distance between them and smooths his hands up Spock’s sides, over his back. “Tell me to leave and I’ll go.”

God, he wants to stay but the small pained grunts and cries Spock makes might drive him to insanity. Spock’s hips keep moving in restless circles. His hand finds Jim’s and squeezes, and his voice is weak. “Jim, please. Please. _Please, make it stop._ ”

Jim chokes back a sob and stays silent. The night continues to drag on. Whatever Spock is feeling, it seems to crest and fall in severity, leaving Spock panting and bracing himself for the next wave.

Spock sags to the mattress in a moment of respite. “It is unfair of me to request of you what you are unable to do.”

Jim just holds Spock’s hand tighter. “What do you feel? Your counterpart?”

Spock’s movements still. “I - he - he is mounted to some sort of strange bench - on his elbows and knees. The cuffs are heavy and do not allow any additional movement. He is exposed outdoors with no clothing. I can feel the sun and dew on my skin.”

Jim’s throat is tight. “That sounds strange.”

“Everything tastes bitter. There are - numerous passerby. They frequently brace their hands on his legs or his shoulders and penetrate-”

Spock makes a strange noise and throws up over the side of the bed.

Alarmed, Jim tries to keep his voice steady as he strokes Spock’s back. “You’ll be okay. You’re alright. I’m here, you’ll be alright, love.”

Spock is coughing, and the noises from his chest sound painful. He appears to register Jim’s touch and gradually calms down.

Jim helps Spock across the room to the sink, and Spock rinses his mouth and face. Jim can hear the whir of an autonomous cleaner squeaking across the entire floor.

Spock leans against Jim’s chest, resting his cheek against the fabric there. “The touch is particularly vivid. The counterpart does not resist. I suspect whoever he is, he has been there for a very long time.”

Jim feels close to hurling himself. There's a reality somewhere out there where Spock is being handled like a sentient sex toy, bolted to a bench outside for the will and whim of the public’s lust.

Spock grunts and spits into the sink again. “The most difficult sensation to endure is the pressure against my tongue,” he says in a small voice.

Jim holds Spock’s hand again. “If we save him, maybe that could save you as well. Or at least stop the sensations from transferring.”

Spock doesn’t respond, lost in his dazed, exhausted state. It seems the peak of what he's been enduring has passed. Jim helps Spock back to the bed and backs towards the door. “Spock, I’m going back to the labs. We’re studying a counter to the harmonics right now, we’re going to find a cure or shield or _something_. I promise I’ll save you.”

Jim leaves without another glance. There’s no time to lose.


	2. Chapter 2

Spock is refusing to eat.

Jim tries to feed Spock himself, but Spock rejects everything set in front of him. It’s clear that with each passing day, he and the other psi-sensitive individuals are more acutely feeling the sensations of their counterparts. Even some of the psi-null individuals are beginning to report ghost sensations. Jim still hasn’t felt anything.

They are no closer to figuring out how to counter the sensations or possibly enter the offending reality. From what they can deduce, it is a grim alternate reality they are experiencing. Captain Spock has also taken temporary leave, and Jim is worried about him, but not nearly as worried as he is about his Spock. Spock has been refusing food long enough that Bones has to inject him with nutrient hypos.

“You can’t reject the hypos, either,” Bones says with exasperation. “Since both make you nauseous, might as well choose the most non-invasive route. No, Ambassador. That puppy-eyed look ain't working with me anymore. I might’ve fallen for it before, but I’ve learned since then. Sit still, this is for your own good.”

The glimmer in Spock’s eyes might be the closest thing Jim’s seen to a smile since this whole ordeal began.

Jim begins trying different ways of feeding Spock, different eating implements and types of foods. He synthesizes a cup and straw of nonreactive neutral tasting material, and he blends nutrient-dense Vulcan plants into an icy smoothie.

It works for a little bit. Jim will often see Spock carrying around the cup and chewing on the straw. But then one day Spock spits out the straw in his mouth and never uses it again. Jim doesn't ask.

“There is nowhere to escape to,” Spock whispers. “No matter where I am or how I position my body, the intrusion is relentless.” They’re back in the positions they were in a week ago, with Spock crouched naked on the bed and Jim nearby, holding his hand in a tight grip. Spock’s erratic movements subside and Jim feels the tension down to his stomach, waiting for Spock to begin whimpering again. He doesn’t.

Jim rubs Spock’s fingers with a thumb. “What do you feel, Spock?”

Spock keeps licking his lips. “I can feel the rain dripping off my face, washing the fluids from my hair and skin. It’s too cold - there will be fewer customers because of the weather.”

Jim frowns. “I guess that’s good.”

“Yes.” Spock is shivering despite the heat of the room.

“What do you think of a warm bath, Spock?”

Spock tilts his head. “Perhaps.”

“I’ll give you a massage afterwards,” Jim adds. “I think it’ll help you feel a little better, being clean in this reality.”

Spock agrees. Jim draws a bath, making sure the water is close to scalding temperature - dangerous for a human but a delightful temperature for a Vulcan. Jim watches Spock relax into the steaming water. He cups a little and lets it trickle over his hair and shoulders. He smiles up faintly at Jim. “I would invite you to join me, however I would prefer you without second-degree burns.”

“Agreed.” Jim is content to sit nearby and watch Spock bask in the hot water combating the frigid cold his mind is feeding him.

After Spock exits and dries, Jim takes his time oiling Spock’s skin and kneading his palms over his shoulders and back. Spock tenses for a moment when Jim turns his attention to Spock’s fingers, but Jim keeps his pressure light and even, and by the end when Jim is massaging Spock’s palm, Spock has completely relaxed into the sheets.

“Spock? I have something else for you. If you’d like.” Spock opens his eyes and blinks at the small, melting square in Jim’s hand.

Spock accepts the chocolate but doesn’t chew. After some time, he swallows and looks expectantly at Jim, who gives him another piece before eating a piece himself. The syrupy sweetness tastes like the artificial chocolate flavoring of a synthesizer. Spock seems to appreciate it though, but because he’s been eating so little he is mildly intoxicated after only a few pieces. He declines another piece and snuggles into the blankets. “Jim, I don’t know what I have done to deserve you.”

The weary smile on his face is more than worth all Jim’s efforts to help him feel better. Jim watches Spock’s eyelids droop until he is unconscious. It’s good that he’s trying to get rest when he can.

Jim exits the quarantine chamber and learns that twenty minutes ago, Bones had gone into cardiac arrest. M’Benga saved him, barely, but he saved him because Bones is too stubborn to die and M’Benga is a miracle worker of a doctor.

“It resembles the final stages of xenopolycythemia,” the captain says grimly, standing in front of Jim wearing medical scrubs.

“Can I go see him? Please,” Jim begs. All the pleasant feelings he’d built with Spock have dissipated to mist.

The captain lets Jim into the room where Bones is. He’s wide awake, and Jim collapses at his side. “You are not allowed to fucking die,” Jim whispers. “Worst best friend ever.”

Bones can’t speak because of the oxygen mask, but he gives Jim a tight hug. Jim doesn’t know how long he’s been there hugging Bones, but eventually one of the nurses pries Jim away and guides him out of Medical Bay. Jim stands alone, feeling more hopeless and adrift than ever.

His feet lead him back to the empty lab, to his own station. Jim sits heavily and stares at nonsensical numbers and patterns that still have no answers within them.

“Jim!” Jim starts and leaps up to see Uhura rushing over with a PADD. Uhura stops and holds the PADD out. “Jim, you’re gonna want to see this.”

“We’ve targeted the source of the electronic impulses,” Uhura says to the hastily gathered meeting committee. “It’s coming from a single point on a single planet. We couldn’t locate it because we weren’t close enough - if we hadn’t gotten lucky, we might’ve never been able to find it at all.”

Jim shudders. “Good thing we got lucky, then.”

“We’ll send a landing party immediately,” the captain decides.

“I am coming with you.” Everyone turns to see the elder Spock enter their room, robed in a sleek dark blue garment with a determined expression in his worn features.

Jim swallows and takes Spock’s hand in his. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

So he joins the landing party in the shuttle immediately. The captain stays onboard. It could be for a multitude of reasons, but Jim suspects he’s monitoring their chief medical officer in his fragile state.

Jim sits to Spock and keeps his voice low. “Are you still feeling the physical sensations?”

“Increasingly. However, this is a mystery I must observe for myself.” Spock’s hands clutch at his seat, but his shoulders are set and his gaze hard. Jim rests a reassuring hand over Spock’s and counts down the hours until they land.

The planet is void of any signs of life or vegetation, with textured rocks covering the surface as far as the eye can see. There are strange fragments of what appear to be building ruins.

Uhura points. “There. That’s the source of all the time displacement power spikes.”

In a clearing amidst the ruins is a large object, rounded yet hollow like a stone torus. Sparks of energy and sound resonate from it, sounding like an incomprehensible language. As the other crewmates and bodyguards examine the area, Jim checks his Universal Translator. “The translator should be working just fine. Do you understand what they’re saying?”

Spock pauses. “No. However, if I were to meld with the entity, I may be able to decipher its thoughts.”

“Oh my god, Spock, please don’t.”

“We require answers. It would not be the most unusual thing I have melded with.” Spock raises an eyebrow at Jim.

Jim glares. “The timing of your humor is fucking terrible, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, my dear.” With that, Spock reaches out and presses his fingertips to the stone.

Jim braces himself for an explosion or something, but nothing happens. Spock closes his eyes and listens quietly. Jim dares to take a step closer. In his periphery, he can see Uhura and the others looking on from a distance.

Suddenly Spock stumbles, his hands still pressed to the stone. A few of the other crewmembers are blinking and looking about in confusion.

“They’re gone,” Spock whispers. “The phantom sensations.”

Judging from the reactions of the others, the sensations are gone for the others as well. Jim moves closer. “How? What happened, Spock? Do you hear anything?”

Spock stands a little straighter. “Indeed. This entity refers to themself as the Guardian of Forever. This is some type of gateway to the time vortex.” A blinding, pulsing light escapes the center of the Guardian, and Spock’s eyebrows crease. “The guardian had died long ago, but they still exist now and are sentient in this thread of time, and will continue to exist for at least another hundred thousand years. It is beyond my comprehension.”

“What was that light?” Jim asks as it continues to glow.

“I was able to see the past, present and future of that reality as the guardian saw it.” Spock turns to face Jim. “The captain’s conclusions were not fully accurate. Our counterparts existed over three hundred Standard years ago. The tactile echoes that I and all the other psi-sensitive have been experiencing are an accurate physical manifestation of the past.”

“I see.” Jim hesitates. “What happened to him, then? Your counterpart?”

“He died due to several factors - fatigue, malnutrition and dehydration, possibly multiple infections and sexually transmitted diseases.” The grief in Spock’s voice is a haunting echo of his grief the day Vulcan was destroyed. “He was bolted to the breeding bench for fifteen years before he passed away.”

Jim closes his eyes. “Oh, Spock.”

“It is not unusual that he lived as long as he did. Vulcans are acclimated to severe desert environments where food and water are scarce. He was likely sustained by the rainwater and - proteins of the ejaculations.”

Spock sounds close to being sick again. Jim gently rubs Spock’s back, and the touch seems to bring Spock back to the present. Jim slips his arms around Spock. “And me? Where was I?”

“You were stillborn twenty years before I was born.” Jim processes this knowledge quietly, arms still tight around Spock’s middle.

“I prefer this reality,” Spock says suddenly, breaking the tense silence.

“You know what, I think so too.” Jim kisses Spock’s cheek and brings his hand to feel Spock’s steady, strong heartbeat at his side.

Spock’s hand covers Jim’s. “The guardian has redirected the transfer of decay to a different neutral thread of reality. We should not be bothered any longer, and if we were to, we should come back to them and inform them. We are safe now. Let’s go home.”

Jim hums in agreement.

After a long briefing with the captain, they return to Jim’s private quarters and fall into a deep sleep.

Jim wakes before Spock and watches his peaceful face. He’s afraid to wake Spock by getting out of bed and jostling the blankets, but Spock doesn’t move at all as Jim goes to the bathroom and comes back to bed. Jim cuddles with the sleeping Spock until it’s past lunchtime. Spock has still not woken. Jim is beginning to suspect Spock has gone into some kind of healing trance, and there’s no telling when he’ll be up. Jim exits the bedroom to prepare lunch for himself and go to the lab, leaving a note with Spock letting him know where he is.

There’s a strange tension in the hallways, like the release of pressure, yet there is still an air of anticipation. Crewmembers are waiting for the sensations to plague them again, yet they are completely gone.

Jim finds Bones in his office. He’s back to his normal, grouchy self. No one would ever have suspected that he nearly died a few days ago. Jim lingers, as if trying to convince himself that Bones is alright. Bones must understand that, because he doesn’t kick Jim out of his office like he usually would at this point.

Jim goes to work, and most of the crewmembers are back, busily working together with an occasional laugh. The noises are largely hushed, as if there is a fear that being too loud would shatter the newfound peace. Jim himself doesn’t join in conversation and keeps to himself until he finally clocks out.

He returns home to find Spock still asleep in bed, his note exactly where he left it. Jim chuckles and goes into the kitchen to cook a vegetable noodle broth that would be easy for Spock’s stomach to digest.

Jim hears Spock shuffling about upstairs as he finishes his meal, and his heart leaps to his throat. He watches Spock eventually plod down the stairs in a different robe than the one he slept in. His warm eyes find Jim’s own. Jim grips his chopsticks. “Nothing, right?

“No,” Spock affirms. “No more phantom sensations.”

Jim is still afraid to smile. Afraid to acknowledge the calm is permanent and here to stay. Because what if it isn’t?

Spock sits pressed to Jim and wraps his arms around Jim’s neck in a gentle hug. “Thank you for staying with me, Jim. It was a difficult time for you as well.”

The fucking audacity Spock had to say Jim had it rough when Spock was the one getting fucking _raped_.

“Oh, love,” Spock says with amusement. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Jim presses his face to Spock’s shoulder, and the fabric of the robe absorbs Jim’s tears. Spock’s hands run through Jim’s hair, and Jim melts into the gesture.

Once he’s calmed down enough, Jim reheats the soup and serves Spock. He sits across from Spock and watches him eat slowly. Spock keeps glancing up at Jim as he eats. Jim rubs a droplet of soup off Spock’s chin. “What’s on your mind?”

Spock blushes. “I fear I will no longer be able to be a sexually satisfying partner.”

Jim sighs. “Spock, I promise that is the last thing you should be worrying about. Ever.”

“Logically I understand so, but an irrational part of me still fears.”

“You’re mine,” Jim says firmly. “For as long as you’ll have me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Spock dips his head, but Jim can see the smile creeping at the edges of his lips. “Jim, do you have any chocolate left over?”

Jim does. He brings it to the table and they share it together while watching the stars in the window outside. They sit with their ankles pressed together under the table, and the warmth from Spock’s contact is as sweet as the flavor melting onto Jim’s tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your interest, I appreciate it very much! ✨✨


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